Of Pythons, Crocodiles, and Kleptocrats in Nigeria’s Reptilian Republic

By Amarike Akpoke

In the bestiaries of mythology and the darker depths of folklore, dangerous animals often symbolize hidden vices such as cunning, greed, and the cold-blooded nature of power. In contemporary Nigeria, however, these metaphors have slithered and snapped their way into literal reality. “When the public treasury becomes the feeding trough of kleptocrats, don’t be surprised if the crocodile smiles and the python slithers through the gates of justice unchallenged. The sudden emergence of Alhaji Ahmed Idris, former Accountant General of the Federation (AGF), not just as an alleged embezzler of ₦109 billion but now as a proud keeper of pythons, cubs, and crocodiles within a densely populated civilian settlement, should concern not just zoologists, but also sociologists, psychologists, anti-corruption crusaders, and the general populace. There is something profoundly symbolic and troubling about the fusion of kleptomania and crocodiles, embezzlement and escaped pythons. It suggests a kind of spiritual symbiosis between unchecked avarice and unregulated wildness.

When the man entrusted with the country’s financial life-blood turns his post-public retirement into a private zoo of terror, we are forced to confront more than just legal ambiguities. We must confront the psychological derangement of power and the bizarre ways it manifests when guilt, wealth, voodoo, and fear intertwine.

When billionaires set out to keep beasts, we shouldn’t be in a hurry to dismiss it as a mere eccentricity. In saner societies, retired civil servants take up hobbies like gardening or golf. But in Nigeria, a former Accountant General, already under EFCC prosecution for allegedly stealing enough money to fund a small country, has chosen to keep crocodiles, cubs, and African rock pythons. It is not in some secure wildlife reserve but in the heart of a bustling residential quarter of Kano, Daneji.

Now, the python has escaped. And let’s be clear here that this is not a Nollywood horror flick. According to reliable reports, the dangerous reptile slithered out of Mr. Idris’ mansion last Sunday, setting off panic and pandemonium among residents. Fearing for their lives and limbs, the good people of Daneji have lodged complaints with both the Kano State Police and the Emir of Kano, Alhaji Muhammadu Sanusi. The Emir, in a rare but necessary exercise of royal candor, has now warned Mr. Idris to evacuate his serpentine arsenal or be held personally responsible for any harm caused.

Let that sink in. A man charged with looting ₦109 billion is still free enough, comfortable enough, and audacious enough to not only house dangerous animals but to pose lovingly with them in now-viral videos, caressing a crocodile that practically snuggles in delight. If this is not a sinister form of national mockery, then what is it?

By the way, how did we get here, that is, from Treasury to Terrarium? What ties kleptocracy to dangerous pets? Why is it that, in Nigeria, there seems to be a disproportionate affinity between stolen billions and absurd extravagance, often laced with spiritual or occult undertones? We have seen it before. A civil servant in Makurdi, who was caught with fetish items and shrines; a director in Abuja, who built an underground vault lined with goat skins and ancient cowrie chains; and, of course, the infamous snake that “swallowed” ₦36 million in a JAMB office. Perhaps, there is something deeply revealing about how stolen public wealth demands irrational guardians in form of amulets, charms, and yes, live animals.

These behaviours are not random; they are ritualistic and calculated. When a man accused of siphoning ₦109 billion surrounds himself with man-eating reptiles, he is not just seeking companionship. It’s easy to assume that he is invoking protection, spiritual or otherwise, against justice. The python may be a symbol of silence, swallowing, and stealth; the crocodile, a symbol of deception and ancient terror. In such a context, their presence is no longer ornamental; it is patently strategic.

It is also, in a grim sense, performative. Just like Garba Shehu once proudly admitted to “concocting the rat story” to deflect attention from President Buhari’s illness, “and it worked,” these spectacles serve to distract, deflect, and disorient. Nigerians, ever distracted by scandalous novelty, are expected to move on from ₦109 billion and focus instead on an errant reptile.

But this time, the ploy may be backfiring. Reptiles are on the run, outpacing justice firmly locked in a cage. The Police Commissioner of Kano State, Ibrahim Adamu Bakori, confirmed that an investigation is ongoing. Mr. Idris has been “invited” and reportedly “agreed” to surrender his collection of wild beasts to the state zoo. Intelligence units have been dispatched to confirm if, indeed, the crocodiles and the remaining pythons are no longer lounging in air-conditioned comfort within the city centre. Latest report suggests the reptiles have been successfully evacuated from the cosy comfort of their accountable host.

But this raises a more fundamental question. Why did it take a snake on the loose for law enforcement to start taking interest in the lifestyle of a man already being prosecuted for stealing a nation’s fortune? This is a man, who should be living under strict bail conditions, not housing biohazards in his backyard. In other climes, prosecutors would have invoked public endangerment laws, revoked bail, and called for psychological evaluation. In Nigeria, however, the man remains something of a folk anti-hero – flamboyant, controversial, and now reptilian. Then, one begins to wonder. Had the python not escaped, would this matter ever have come to light?

This recalls the streetwise Musa at the gate whenever the absurd becomes normal in Nigeria. As always, it is the ordinary people, the metaphorical Musa at the gate, who suffer the consequences. The residents of Daneji now live in fear of a predator that did not crawl in from the forest, but from a bourgeoisie mansion next door. Their outcry to the Emir reflects a collective desperation, the fear not just of fangs, venoms, and scales, but of what Nigeria has become. For indeed, nothing wey Musa no go see for gate. In a country where cows have ID cards but citizens don’t, where bandits are negotiated with while students rot in kidnappers’ dens, where an escaped python triggers more investigation than billions stolen, what thenis left of reason?

We live in a Nigeria where, justice is slow, but reptiles are swift; some public officials loot, and their pets lounge in peace; the guilty stroll freely, while the innocent lock their doors in fear of both armed robbers and armoured reptiles. This is no longer funny. This is a national horror story, co-authored by corruption, complicity, and the silence of institutions that should protect the people.

In conclusion, how do we reclaiming sanity from the snake pit? Nigeria must decide what kind of republic it wishes to be. Is it a Reptilian Republic, where crocodiles are stroked more lovingly than the rule of law or a humane, just society where no one, no matter how connected or cash-loaded, is above scrutiny? The case of Ahmed Idris is no longer just about alleged embezzlement. It is about impunity, spectacle, and the grotesque intersection of fear and fantasy in the minds of those who once wielded public power.

Let the authorities act not just on the escaped python, but on the man who turned a billion-naira scandal into a zoo of distractions. Let the courts demand not just accounting of stolen wealth, but of dangerous psychodramas inflicted upon innocent citizens. And while we are re at it, someone should check the crocodile’s belly. Who knows? The missing ₦210 trillion, (according to a Senate probe committee), may be snuggling inside.

For Diaspora Digital Media Updates click on Whatsapp, or Telegram. For eyewitness accounts/ reports/ articles, write to: citizenreports@diasporadigitalmedia.com. Follow us on X (Fomerly Twitter) or Facebook